Growing Up, Love, and All That Good Stuff
by randomchibi23
Summary: ChekovxOC! Chekov is sick and tired of being treated like a little kid, and in setting out to prove himself gets himself into a lot more than he bargained for. On hiatus!
1. Prologue

Prologue Woohoo! Short but hey, it's a prologue.

Disclaimer- Not mine.

Prologue

Pavel Chekov was young. He knew this. His shipmates knew this, and they never let him live it down. They had no idea their constant "aw Chekov" s and "come on kid"s were slowly driving the poor teenager insane. And the hair ruffling! Why did every single member of the crew feel the need to pet his head? He hated his tight, impossible curls, and all the attention only made them even more unmanageable.

The native born Russian had graduated top of his class at the Starfleet Academy, disproved several commonly used scientific theories, and had gone on to become Enterprise's youngest Ensign ever, and all at an astonishingly young age. Yet to the distinguished ship's inhabitants and crew, he was merely known as "that adorable Russian wiz kid!"

Well Chekov was sick of it. He was eighteen now and he deserved to be treated like it! He would show them all he deserved the same amount of respect as anyone else on this stupid ship! Then, maybe, he would finally-

"Chekov?" a curious voice broke through his internal ramblings. The Russian jumped.

"...Yez sir Keptin?"

"Bring us up to Warp 6 please. I'd like to arrive on planet Pybas a bit sooner than anticipated, if possible."

"Yez sir. Warp ein 3…2…1…" Chekov expertly coaxed the throttle forward, and the ship shot out of the visibility range. "Warp obtained sir."

Captain Jim Kirk lazily bit into a shiny red apple- his favorite snack. "Ensign, where is Navigator Sulu?"

Spinning his chair around, Pavel immediately answered, "He ees ein ze Medical Bay sir. He was complaining of wertigo…"

Kirk stared blankly. "… What?"

Chekov's brow furrowed as he attempted again. "V-vertigo, sir. Vertigo." He beamed at his near perfect pronunciation.

The young and rather handsome captain laughed. "Oh, well thank you Chekov. You performed his job admirably." Then, in a lighter voice, "Good work kiddo."

Said "kiddo" twitched and fumed silently at this supposed compliment as the captain leisurely swaggered away; only stopping for a quick ruffle through his now red-faced Russian friends hair.

Oh yes, Pavel Chekov was young, and very determined to prove himself otherwise. Angrily punching coordinates into the computer, he had no idea his long awaited chance would come the very next day, and he would soon be wishing it hadn't.


	2. Chapter 1

Hey guys! Thanks so much for reading and ESPECIALLY those who reviewed! Extra cookies for you! Love ya'll!

Disclaimer: Not mine.

**Chapter 1**

Two-hundred and seventeen. There were two hundred and seventeen agonizingly plain ceiling tiles hovering stoically above an extremely bored out of his mind Russian adolescent's head. Pavel Chekov had been on deck for roughly five hours now, and was beginning to contemplate stabbing himself in the arm with a pen just to provide himself with some type of much needed entertainment. Heck, maybe he'd even get sent to Bones down in Medical if he tried hard enough. He would gladly accept even the moody doctor's company over this slow torture.

Searching for a less violent solution to his chronic boredom, Chekov's grey eyes flickered about the near empty room. Usually, even for the dreaded "graveyard shift" he was currently experiencing, no less than three officers were necessary to run the ship at all times. Today, however, Navigator Sulu woke up to the discovery that he had somehow acquired the measles on his latest ground mission, and was currently moping about sick bay cursing his bad luck.

So, Captain Kirk, who was currently snoring loudly in his coveted chair, decided that until a replacement for Sulu could be found, he and Chekov would just have to make do alone for a single night. Though originally thrilled by his beloved Captain's confidence in his amateur navigation abilities, all thoughts of glory had now left the exhausted Ensign long ago. Maybe he would count the ceiling tiles again, he thought blearily.

_1…2…3…4…thump_. He stopped abruptly. What was that?

The now wide awake teenager slowly stood up from his seat, hardly breathing in an effort to become invisible. Tiptoeing over to the still sound asleep Captain, Chekov slowly bent down and retrieved what had noisily fallen from Kirk's belt: his standard issue phaser gun.

The forbidden object now resting safely in his palms, Pavel felt considerably braver just by holding it. He knew Kirk would kill him if he awoke, but Chekov couldn't quite find the will to care as he quoted: _desperate times call for desperate measures_.

Awed by the shiny new toy presented to him, the brilliant Ensign flicked at the buttons in fascination. The steady _click, click, click _of his nimble fingers switching the settings was hypnotizing.

_Stun. Kill. Vaporize._

_Stun. Kill. Vaporize._

_Stun. Kill. Vapor-_

"CHEKOV!" the previously sleeping captain shouted suddenly, causing the now panicked Ensign to jerk back in surprise…

Pressing down on the gun's trigger in the process.

A quick and deadly burst of light shot from the barrel, searing straight through ceiling tile number one hundred and fifty-seven like it was paper. Chekov froze. And then all hell broke loose.

Sirens flashed, computers screamed, alarms wailed; all insisting the entire system had inexplicably come crashing down upon their dazed heads. Smoke poured from the wounded tile so thick it almost seemed to have a life of its own.

In a flash Jim grabbed the stunned boy by the shoulders and yelled over the panic, "WHAT did you DO?!" A strangled choking noise erupted from Pavel's throat as he stared blankly at his insistent captain.

"CHEKOV!"

Snapped back to reality by the urgency in the man's voice, the eighteen year old wasted no time on explanations and sprinted straight for main computer, typing away furiously. Hovering over his shoulder nervously, Jim watched as what little color the young Ensign possessed slowly drained from his face.

"Eet appears ze laser went straight through ze outer shell of ze metalloid compartmeent eind punctured a wital component of ze engine trusters!" His piercing eyes looked grim. "We must land, _now!_"

No sooner had he uttered this, the whole starship began to shake violently; Kirk and Chekov watched in horror as they were forcefully thrown out of transport mid-warp. The perspiring teenager sent his fingers flying across the keyboard.

"We are on a direct coolision course with ze nearest planet!" he yelped frantically.

"Fix it!" the panicking captain cried.

"Um um…" Chekov stopped and closed his eyes momentarily, pulling at his brunette curls. "Um…Ze lever, over zer! Grab eet eind pull!" he commanded. Kirk did as he was told while the Russian continued his determined work at the main computer's controls. Kirk desperately jerked the lever with all his strength, attempting to pull the Enterprise out of its steep dive into the planet's atmosphere.

"I think its working!" he gasped. _Snap._

"NO!" he shouted angrily as their last hope was destroyed, and he was sent sprawling across the floor, halting with a solid _thunk _that was his head colliding with the wrong end of a table.

This unfortunate turn of events, however, was barely noticed by the completely focused wiz kid. "Four-hundred and sixty kilometers plus ze forward welocity, adjusting for ze planet's gravitational pool, calculating…" the shaky Russian muttered under his breath, simultaneously flicking and pressing dozens of switches and buttons.

"Svarog help me…" he whispered pressing a final button. A second lever rose up, and the wiry teenager grabbed it with as much strength he could muster.

"Pveaz vork…"

And then everything went black.

-

The first time Chekov woke up, he wasn't sure he'd returned to consciousness at all. He was floating in a velvety black abyss, the perpetual darkness only interrupted by the occasional merciful spark of light from sparking wires. As a blurry picture began to form, the boy almost groaned upon seeing all the mangled pieces of no doubt broken beyond repair machinery scattered around him. Almost.

He coughed, "Keptin?"

Nothing. A growing panic caused the burning pin prickling of his eyes, and made his blood run fiery hot.

"Keptin?" he repeated louder. A thick moan and shifting of metal alerted the semi-conscious Ensign James Kirk was still, indeed, among the living. Relief flooded through his weak body, and Chekov hit the floor once more.

-

The second time Chekov awoke was considerably more confusing than the previous. His first conscious thought was that the constant _beep beep beep _of what he assumed to be an old fashioned heart monitor was possibly the most annoying sound he'd ever heard. The next was that he had a dreadful headache, and the incessant machine wasn't helping.

The teenager scowled and slowly tried to open his eyes, only to slam them shut against the brutally white and unforgiving room. The heart monitor went crazy as his pulse begin to race. For although his eyes had only been open for a fraction of a second, the Ensign had come upon a very disturbing conclusion. A single thought flashed through his mind:

This was not the ship's medical bay.

NOTE: Svarog is a Russian god, able to control the sun, fire, rain and sky and is the Chieftain of the Russian Gods. At least according to Wiki. XD

Like? Like? Review? Review?


	3. Chapter 2

Thanks again for reviewing everyone! It really is what keeps me motivated to take time out of my busy day write this. :D So thanks! You guys rock!

**Chapter 2**

"So tell me Spock, how bad is it?"

Two pairs of confident footsteps echoed through the long hallways of planet Yultin's main starship maintenance facility. The entire crew of the Enterprise had been stranded here for almost two days now, eagerly awaiting the damage reports for their crash landed ship. Luckily, there were no fatalities or serious injuries caused by the accident, however contrary to what head engineer Montgomery Scott "Scotty" may claim. The man limped around moaning in agony for hours before an exasperated McCoy finally diagnosed his "horrible near feital!" injury as nothing more than a few bruised ribs and a broken ankle. Kirk chuckled at the memory.

His pointy eared companion didn't break stride in replying, "The damage was great, but isolated. The blast primitively hit one of the warp generators, and then continued straight through a piece of the main engine as well." He paused. "The likelihood of the Ensign hitting that particular location to cause maximum damage is…"

"A million to one, yeah I know," the captain sighed. "Tell me about it."

The pair strolled on in reflective silence until reaching the end of the hall. The Commander was the first one to break the spell. "I will proceed to negotiate the repair costs with the mechanics. Now that they have located and repaired the blast's initial damage, I estimate it should take no more than 24 hours to fix the minor afflictions caused by the actual crash. I will alert staff we leave at 1400 hours tomorrow."

Kirk nodded his head in approval. "I'll go check on the kid."

Spock raised a single brow. "And what exactly do you intend to tell him, Captain?"

Self-consciously running a hand through his perfect locks, the man replied, "I don't know Spock, I mean, it _was_ an accident…and no one can deny the kid's brilliant at his job…"

"Standard procedure calls for his immediate removal from the ship," Spock's voice stated logically, though lacking in its usual authority. Kirk dropped his jaw in mock shock.

"Do you LIKE kicking puppies?!"

The Vulcan arched his dark eyebrow again. "I do not understand what puppies have to-"

"Look, forget it Spock," Kirk groaned. "I'm not removing him. He's an irreplaceable asset to this team, and finding a new Ensign as good as him would be a pain in the ass." He made a face. "Everybody makes mistakes. And besides," he added bitterly. "I quite like puppies."

-

Chekov was having a mild panic attack.

He had no idea what was going on: where he was, how he got there, why his head felt like it was going to explode into _a million tiny pieces_…the anxious teen stopped and took a deep breath.

_Calm down. You are Ensign Pavel Andreievich Chekov of the U.S.S. Enterprise. You can do this._ _You can do this… What would the Captain do?_

_Check for injuries, _the logical part of his brain helpfully supplied. Vaguely contemplating why his "logic voice" was oddly similar to the Commander's, the Russian carefully raised the light blanket from his torso. A fiery blush spread to his cheeks.

And to top it all off, he had no really wasn't his day.

-

Muttering a bit to himself, Captain James T. Kirk briskly walked through the white double doors labeled "Yultin Medical Center" at a break-neck pace. _He_ knew he was making the right decision in keeping Chekov, he reassured, and that pointy eared bastard could just _suck it _for all he cared…

Kirk stepped into the turbo lift and punched the button a bit more violently than necessary. Before the doors even had time to silently slide close, he was already halfway down the narrow hall and increasing in speed and mumbling volume.

"I mean it'd be like _kicking a puppy…_ who does that…and the kid's just so damn cute…"

The frustrated man was pulled from his internal musings by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps from around the near corner.

"STOP HIM!" a woman yelled. Kirk barely had time to register what was happening when _BAM, _he was hit with the full force of a sprinting yellow flash. There were two _oomph_s as both parties hit the floor.

"Keptin!" Chekov exclaimed happily. "I awoke in a streinge place eind I deed not know where I was so I grabbed my clothes eind I ran eind zen…"

"Chekov," the captain gasped. "Could you please _get off me_?" The twitchy Ensign flushed and quickly jumped up.

"Oh sorry sir I deed not realize-"

"THERE YOU ARE!"

The mystery woman's voice was back with a vengeance. The skinny Russian paled and scrambled to get away.

"OH NO not again you don't!" exclaimed the agitated nurse. The rather stout woman tackled the Ensign from behind, causing him to instantly go limp. The intimidating nurse grinned and held up the hypospray in victory. Jim's mind instantly flashed to Bones and he instinctively backed away.

"Um, Nurse…?" he tentatively questioned.

"Frances. Nurse Frances." She responded absently, pulling at the unconscious boy's upper torso. "Now you grab his feet there and we'll haul this escapee back to his room- _where he belongs."_

-

Ten minutes and a couple new bruises at Chekov's expense later, and the unconventional group had finally made it to their destination. No sooner had the two gently placed the teenager on the bed he began to stir.

The busy nurse didn't even bother waiting and haughtily marched off, throwing over her shoulder, "he can leave in an hour!"

James Kirk stood there, debating between whether he was more confused or amused by this strange turn of events, when Pavel's pale eyelids fluttered open.

"Where eim I?" the young crew member asked drowsily.

"Planet Yultin's finest medical facility." the captain informed cheerfully.

Confusion flickered across his face. "Yultin? Why are we…" Dawning flooded

into the boy's eyes and he bowed his head in shame. "I _deeserve_ to be marooned here on zis planet with scary nurses…"

Kirk's eyes widened slightly and he tilted his head to the side in confusion. "Marooned? Who said anything about…oh," he chuckled softly. "Chekov, were not _marooning _you here, planet Yultin is where our ship crash landed. It's being fixed as we speak." Chekov's eyes brightened a little at hearing that, but still looked skeptical of his own fate.

Sighing as he ran his fingers through his hair (an old habit of his), the captain began: "Chekov, what you did was stupid and irresponsible- and a complete accident. Everybody has those days, and I cannot fairly blame you for something no one could have expected. However," Chekov flinched and the blonde averted his eyes. "Someone must be held accountable. So, starting tomorrow at 1400 hours, when we re-board the ship, you will be temporarily relieved of your duties as Ensign."

Risking a glance at the accused Russian's eyes, the man immediately regretted what he saw. The boy wasn't tearing up with a kicked puppy look as expected, but what he saw instead was almost worse: complete and total dismal acceptance. He could just tell the kid was drowning himself internally.

Kirk winced and felt like he should say something, anything, to comfort the guilt stricken Russian, but advice had never really been his thing. So, with a mental shrug of the shoulders and sympathetic glance, he left the poor Ensign to his self-inflicted misery.

Poor Chekov. And yes, Nurse Frances was greatly inspired by Frances Callier. XD You know, the bodyguard from Hannah Montana?! Cookies to anyone who can find the other Hannah Montana reference in this chapter. Why? I honestly haven't a clue. I'm a seventeen year old teenager getting a kick out of Hannah Montana references. This _is_ sad. T.T **Review** and make me feel better?


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